Janie

      Janie Crawford is an African-American woman living in the early 1900's in southern Florida. Janie's story is told in Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God. Janie's struggle for love, happiness, and personal satisfaction drive Janie through a crazy life, full of different men, different towns, and different states of mind,
       The book opens with Janie walking into Eatonville, Florida and Janie, now past forty years old, has been away for some time. Janie begins to talk to Pheoby Watson, a close friend, about her story. Janie grew up with her grandmother, after her mother was raped and became a drunk. Janie lived in a white household, and while teased for it, enjoyed her childhood very much. As a teenager, Janie was forced to marry Logan Killicks, a older man who owned a farm, because of her Grandmother's uncertainty about Janie's future. Janie quickly grew tired of Logan, and ran off with a rich man named Joe Starks, who went with her to build a new life in the all black town of Eatonville. In Eatonville Joe lived his dream, however Janie grew apart from Joe as well. After a few months alone, Janie then met a man named Tea Cake who she quickly grew fond of. Tea Cake treated her differently, and it led to Janie to think about running off with him.
       Throughout all of this, despite all the craziness, Janie has stayed true to one thing. Her pursuit of happiness. Janie spends the first half of her life unhappy, searching for love in places where all she would get are things. So she gave up on that dream and moved on, because she would never quit believed that she could do something to better her own situation. The end of Janie's story is currently unknown, however it is safe to assume she will be doing something to get happy.

Thankful for Jefri

        This Thanksgiving I am thankful for many things, and one of them is Jefri. Jefri not only is a consistent add to our conversations but also a very helpful friend. Whenever we are doing group work I can hear her taking charge of her group and steering them in the right direction.  Besides her contribution to the class, Jefri also helps me personally. Whether I don't understand part of the text, I don't know how to answer a group work question, or I simply need to confirm homework, Jefri is always there to help out.
         As group work begins I immediately look over the questions. I begin to answer them, taking not of the trickier ones. Once we get to those harder questions I do the same thing every time. "Jefri." I wisper. Knowing that no matter if she knows the answer or not she will be able to help me.
         So thank you, Jefri for always helping me and the class out in furthering our understanding of the text.

Princliples

      A great man once said, “Forgiveness is not an occasional act, it is a constant attitude.” This man is Martin Luther King Jr, not only one of the greatest civil rights activists in American history, but he is also contributed with being an overall amazing intellectual thinker. Forgiveness is not a principle, however, giving people a second chance is. 
      Nobody is perfect, so why judge someone on his or her initial action. When we as humans jump to conclusions about people, we are not only constricting them of doing what they wanted, but we are disabling our selves from a great opportunity. The very popular expression don't judge a book by its cover is not only about first impressions. While it may go unsaid, there's no point in being open about the cover if you give up after the first page. Luckily, and sometimes unfortunately for us, humans aren't books, and a lot of times you can know someone very well before you see them do something wrong. The important part about this is to forgive them, and give them a second chance.
      I'm not saying that if someone murder's your children you should immediately forgive them, I'm just saying you have to look at the big picture. Even in a post-apocalyptic society as in The Road, second chances are an important principle. Whether it's losing the gun or running after a boy, the dad continues to support the son through all of his mistakes. Even though the dad led them into a room full of human food and has almost gotten them killed, the son continues to trust the father around every corner. 
      Personally, I am extremely grateful to those who gave me second chances, and as my thanks to them, I try to be open minded when giving second chances to others. Everybody makes mistakes, what separates the the strong from the weak is how they respond to these mistakes.  

Hemingway

           Ernest Hemingway was and will always remain one of the most gifted authors in American literary history and will be accounted for writing some of the best literary works ever written. Hemingway lived an amazing life, filled with adventure, excitement, and success. He was a loving father, a husband, and an artist.
           While there is no denying that Hemingway is an extremely accomplished writer, the world is often ignorant of the true Hemingway. While we often focus on his accomplishments, we must look upon his misdoings and overall personality. Hemingway lived a life full of competition, adultery, and masculinity.
            Even in his early life Hemingway did as he pleased. Even though his parent told him to go to university, he went straight to work instead. When the army told him he couldn't go to war, he joined the red-cross instead. Hemingway had little respect for orders, and did whatever he wanted. This gave a sort of self-identified power that not only set himself above others, but gave him the drive to break laws in WWII.
            As Hemingway matured he met many women. But, as apparent through his four wives and countless mistresses, no women was good enough for Hemingway. Not only did he cycle through wives, but he had little respect for them and competed with them both in the bedroom and in their professional lives.
           Finally, Hemingway was in a constant wrestle with himself. He was always wanting to improve and to be this manly idol that he believed he could be. Whether it was deep sea fishing, big game hunting, or bull fighting hemingway did anything he could to be as much of a man as he could. This made him a depressed, self-conscious man always searching for something he could never achieve; perfection.
          These aspects of his life are vital to the understanding of Hemingway's life. Hemingway was brilliant, but he is only a man, and at the end of the day that is what killed him.

For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn

Engulfed by the Earth, untouched. Dead.

Amongst the fog; the summit glows.

Claustrophobic, sealed away. Forgotten by all.

Waiting for something. Waiting, for Superman.

Orange glowing in the night; Campfire.

White coating all. Waiting for summer.

John Proctor. Hero or Stooge?

        John Proctor is a stooge. Proctor is a fine man, with the right intentions and a good heart. However, it is impossible to overcome such wrong, so for that reason he must be recognized as a stooge. 
        The Salem community clearly respects John and considers him a very important town member. While he has many followers and admirers, the town is ignorant of his many sins. In a place where everybody lives under the guidance of god and makes every decision based on religion. John rarely attends church, he breaks one of the ten commandments (and forgets it later) and he didn't baptize one of his sons. In their community, Proctor would never be considered a hero, yet he has many people who support him and his every action. 
        When the witch trials begin, John is coaxed into going into Salem and disobeying his wife's wishes. Then, he makes his way into a situation where he has no jurisdiction, and tops it all off by having a private conversation with the very girl he had an affair with. It is impossible to consider someone who does commits so many intolerable acts a hero. 
         Finally, while Proctor finally does the right thing and tells the truth, he ends up getting hanged and doesn't solve anything. He goes down with a sobbing wife, a mistress who is rich living without him, and provides absolutely no solution to the problem. A hero saves the day, John Proctor did not. 
        

There Goes the Neighborhood

       We watched helplessly as the men plowed through our home. We tried to stop them, but we had to accept our fate. They didn't share the same respect we had for our surroundings. It pains us all to watch them tear up the earth that had given us so much. If only we could go back, just a short time ago, to when the men first came.
       It was a normal day, and after a long day of gathering wild nuts and berries, we prepared to go back to the village. However, on our way back we heard a noise coming from the sea. We assumed the noise came from animals, but we were shocked when we saw other people. Luckily for us we were behind the trees, hoping to not startle the animals, but it worked to not let them see us either. We slowly retreated and as we walked back, I saw a massive boat, made from many trees, in the water. Knowing the great things these men are capable of, I had a feeling it would not go well for us.
      After a little while we decided to put ourselves in an area where they could discover us, as to not startle them. Our first interactions were very peaceful. They were very interested in us, what we were wearing, and even our crops. We taught them how to grow corn, squash, and beans, and they in turn gave us certain metal tools and goods from their home. But suddenly, one day they came with all their men, and rounded us up. We were forced to work for them, harvest their crops, and build their homes. They weren't like us at all, they didn't care for the spirits in nature, they only took, and never gave.
      More and more came, and more and more of us died. We had illnesses never before held by our people, we had starvation even with so much to quench our hunger around us. But the worst part was helping them tear apart the earth which has treated us so well for so many years. So we were forced to watch helplessly, as they tore apart our neighborhood.

ME

        Compassionate, committed, and easygoing. Just three random words, yet put together they are instantly paired with my vision of myself.
        My name is Quincy Caleb Hirt, and I am fifteen years old. I am proud to describe myself as the three words above, and while I may have moments of lapse in thought, I try to exhibit these traits throughout my daily life. I love being around other people and I always try to avoid spending even the occasional evening alone. I have found that if I show others compassion, they enjoy being around me just as much as I enjoy them. I try to be a friendly face they can go to for help, tell their problems too, or even just to show them that someone cares.
       This past summer I returned to my summer camp, Camp Nebagamon for Boys, for the seventh consecutive summer. I hold camp near and dear to my heart and I can't imagine a summer without it. Every year at camp we have a friendly day of competition called Paul Bunyan Day. Each year, four kids from the eldest grade are chosen to represent and lead their teams. These boys are called the Boss Loggers. The way they are chosen is through an all grade vote on the second night of camp. The reason I stay compassionate is because I know when people trust someone and like someone, they follow them. So when my peers voted for me as one of the four Boss Loggers, I knew that I was not only well liked enough and trusted enough to lead 60-70 kids on the of the most important days of the year, I knew that whatever I was doing was working.
        I have taken part in many optional activities throughout my life. Whether it's extra curriculars, sports, or even personal endeavors, I always stay committed to what I started. I can proudly say that I rarely quit something that I made a commitment to. I am so self-determined that I don't even like stopping a math problem that I can't solve. Unfortunately, this ends up leaving me with no time to do the other twenty questions on the test, but that's beside the point. The point is that I like to finish what I have started. It gives closure, accomplishment, and that great feeling you get when you think back to what you were at the beginning and how much better you are now.
       Luckily for me I am a generally happy person. In the fourth grade, our family friends and my family embarked on a two week trip to the African bush. We slept in huts, went on walking safaris at five in the morning, and ate entirely the local cuisine. While the trip provided an amazing experience, it also was one of the most incredibly fun trips I've ever been on. On day ten of our trip, we were in Botswana, twenty miles outside of the Kalahari Desert. The plan was to drive into the desert the next day and continue to our next "lodge" on foot. The majority of the group were kids, however there were three adults over the age of 40. The trip had been great, but tiring and demanding. It had taken a toll on our parents so they gave us a decision. We could either continue with our plan, or we could go to a nicer resort back in Zambia. While the rest of the group prepared to vote, I did what I do every time a vote is proposed; I think about what I want, and then I think about what the group wants. In this situation I knew I really wanted to continue on our original trip into the Kalahari. However, judging from the reaction to the proposal, I knew the group wanted something different. So, I didn't vote. Rather than attempt to convince others that I was happy with the decision I simply put on a smile and prepared for whatever was next. In this sense I am easygoing. I can adapt to situations I don't like to be in and I can make others enjoy the situations I do like. Even something as simple as choosing dinner is hard for me because I the end of the day I will manage no matter what we chose. Being easygoing ironically makes the going easier for me, and brightens up dark days.
       I don't like to brag, and I won't lie. Those aren't the only three words that describe me, and while my mom may think it, I am not perfect. I am still working on many ways to improve myself, and many ways to get rid of the wrong that I do. I may have only lived fifteen years, but I know one thing. If I can still describe my self the same way in thirty years, I will be just a pleased.